Did you hear ...

Sometimes I marvel at my seeming inability to not listen well. It’s not just in the realm of conversation that I speak but more so in the daily litany of sounds that abound; they seem to, as it were, escape my hearing.

Yesterday, after I wrapped up a day at work and was walking to my car I found myself thinking about something a coworker said to me a day or so ago regarding mindfulness. I have read a lot about mindfulness in my Buddhist excursions and philosophical trail blazing. I’m fully aware of what it means and of the specific meditation technique to funnel my thoughts down to … nothing as I focus on my breath and struggle to harness my inner world.

What I am not so adept at is being mindful of what is around me, i.e., the clicking sound of the keyboard I’m pressing my fingers down on as I type, the brrrr of the A/C unit in our office that churns out cold or warm air, the voices on the other side of the wall from where I sit and a menagerie of other audible snippets.

Maybe we humans are just geared in such a way as to cancel these routine sounds out in order to survive a day and keep from going insane. The only problem herein is that I think we have a tendency to cancel out others in our daily routines.

What leads me to disregard the sounds of the wind causing the leaves to rustle also inclines me to not listen well to the human element that surrounds me each day.

I want to be a better listener.

Your Mask is Showing

Today I am reminded of the duality that exists among all of us humans, i.e. the nasty penchant we have to serve two masters, live co-existing lives, and the like. I think that one of the most horrific things we do is put on masks. When I say this I am not speaking metaphorically but literally. I think it’s frightening to see someone with a mask on of say, Richard Nixon, or Madonna. Why is that? I rather think that it’s partly due to the fear of not really knowing who is behind the mask. Are they good? Is there evil lurking behind the mask? What is really behind the rubber and plastic?

Hypocrisy is rooted in mask wearing. The ability to, as it were, “put on a face” before others when in reality the face we show to the public is quite different than the reality behind the mask. I’ve thought about these today simply because I have asked myself how often I have been guilty of this hidden vice we all get away with more often than we care to admit. It is difficult to be all things to all men (or all “humans” for you gender sensitive folk). However, we do this by being one thing to one person and perhaps quite the opposite towards another individual.

The goal to strive for is to be ONE person, to be honest with our communications so that we don’t ever have to remember what it is we say to people because, if asked, it will just simply be the truth. The truth never has to be remembered because it’s always going to be the same. When we live hypocritically we by default have to have very good memories and an ability to spin words creatively to convince others that things are a certain way when in reality they are … not.

See my tears ... they fill the whole night sky ... the whole night sky

Well, it goes without saying that it is purely cliche to commence writing with endless blabber about the silent period betwixt postings. So, I will spare you the litany of what all has transpired within the last few years and instead plunge into the deep end. I am certain, knowing myself, that one way or another you will eventually hear many a tale regarding happenings, but for now I'm rather happy to just be here again. Many thanks to the soul that has inspired this renewed interest in returning to this blog. You know who you are.

The chaotic events of life that have, as it were, stifled any sense of creativity within me to write are no longer stumbling blocks to me and so I am without excuse to sit idle and avoid the dreamy lust I have for a well phrased morsel of words that says it just right. I don't know why I allowed things to cloud me and keep me muzzled. I have always been, and continue to be, a people watcher and for years I kept little Moleskine journals with all manner of odd things that I had observed or words that I heard for the first time that made me laugh and wonder. I am happy to feel the stirrings within me towards contemplation again.

I think that somewhere embedded in this blog there must be a reference to Bruce Cockburn, a Canadian singer songwriter known more in Canada than here. Look for his song "Pacing the Cage." The last few years have set me to ... pacing the cage and if you listen carefully you will understand my absence from this love affair I have had for many years to write.

Thank you to the soul that helped me regain a feeling of azure skies.

Rei